


Don't Call It A Comeback

by blackjacktheboss



Series: mob au [13]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackjacktheboss/pseuds/blackjacktheboss
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: mob au [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1102638
Comments: 16
Kudos: 186





	Don't Call It A Comeback

Annabeth sits at her desk that belonged to her mother before her and admires the intricate carvings that mark its edges. She smiles to herself, having missed the feeling of sitting behind it, reminded of the power that seems to emanate from its mahogany. Her hands are flat on its cool surface, as if asking it to forgive her for her absence. As she reacquaints herself with it, there is a gentle rap on the door, and she looks up to see Charles poke his head in. 

“Hey boss,” he says with a sweet smile. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” she says, leaning back in her chair. 

“Saying hi to an old friend, I see,” he says with his usual charming smile. 

“I missed her so much,” she says in a whiny tone. “I mean, my desk in Elysium is great, but this one… it’s special.” 

Charles laughs as he sits down. “Well, once you two are done having your moment, can we talk about what you would like to do today?” 

Annabeth takes a deep breath, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. “This desk surely isn’t the only one who has been missing me these past few years.” 

“Certainly not.” 

“I figure I should… make the rounds. Say hi. Remind people who I am.” 

“And why they stay in line,” Charles adds with a look of pride. 

“Precisely.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Where would you like to start?” 

* * *

Lee Fletcher walks into his office on a beautiful Monday morning, coffee in hand, and finds that someone is sitting in his chair, enjoying what is supposed to be  _ his _ panoramic view of Olympic Harbor. 

“Who the hell are you?” he says angrily. 

The chair turns towards him slowly, revealing a long, smooth pair of familiar legs that make Lee’s mouth go dry. 

“Don’t tell me six years is all it takes for you to forget about me, Lee. I thought we had something special.” 

He nearly drops his coffee. “An--Annabeth. I mean, Ms. Chase. I, um… Hello.” 

Annabeth smiles like a cat that has cornered its prey. “That’s more like it. How have you been?” 

Lee shuts his office door and nervously takes a seat usually reserved for junior reporters. He tries not to read too much into the metaphor. “Well, my blood pressure has been nearly perfect though it does feel like that’s about to change.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Annabeth says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I just came to see an old friend.” 

“Oh, is your friend on their way here?” Lee asks sarcastically, setting his drink on the desk. 

Annabeth laughs. “That’s why I’ve always liked you, Lee. You’re scared of me but in a way that lets you keep your sense of humor. That’s an important combination. Tells me a lot about what kind of man you are.” 

Lee swallows hard, waiting for the threat that he’s sure is around the corner. “What, uh… what kind of man is that exactly?” 

Annabeth tilts her head a bit to the right, her smile becoming something sweet but malicious. “The kind who wouldn’t even think about running stories on high profile people’s children.” 

Lee sits forward, his hands flat on the desk. “Listen, if this is about the mayor’s son, he drove right into the city pool while on cocaine, the headline basically wrote itself and—“ 

“I don’t give a shit about the mayor,” she assures him. 

Lee squints, confused, but his mind quickly connects the dots. “You have kids?” 

“Kid,” she confirms. “Singular.” 

“No shit,” he says in surprise and his eyes lose focus as his mind runs in a dozen different directions. 

Annabeth snaps her finger. “Lee, focus. ” 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head for clarity. “Congrats.” 

“Thank you,” she says, and it seems genuine. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how important family is.” 

Lee clears his throat. “Of course not.” 

“Great. So we have an understanding?” 

“Always,” he nods emphatically. “You can check with Connor, I’ve been very good in your absence.” 

“Oh, I believe it,” Annabeth says proudly as she stands. “I always knew you were the man for this job.” 

Lee nods, a close lipped smile on his face. “A job I continue to appreciate very, very much.” 

“I’ll be in touch, Lee,” she says as she walks around the desk, to the door. She pauses with her hand on the doorknob, and turns to look over her shoulder. “How is Ms. McLean holding up?” 

Lee clears his throat and turns around awkwardly in his seat to face Annabeth. “She’s been great, Ms. Chase. The social life column fits her like a glove, just like you said it would.” 

Again, she smiles victoriously. “Good. Take care of yourself. I’ll be seeing you.” 

The door closes behind her and Lee melts into the chair, propping his feet up on this desk as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, she’s  _ still  _ hot and scary.” 

* * *

Zoë checks her watch, frowning as she wonders where all the time in her morning lecture goes. With a reluctant sigh, she looks back up at her students and smiles. 

“Okay, everyone, we can leave it there for today,” she announces, and the noise of her students packing up quickly fills the air. “Be sure to read the articles for next week, please!” 

With her bag all packed up and her students dismissed, Zoë slings her brown leather messenger bag over her shoulder. Taking a moment to look out at the lecture hall, as she does after every class, she is stunned when she sees an occupied seat in the very back of the room. 

“Wonderful class, professor,” Annabeth says, sitting back casually in her seat. “I can see why enrollment for your classes is at an all-time high.” 

“Oh, I think it has more to do with the chili pepper next to my name on that rating website,” Zoë replies nervously as she crosses her arms. “But thank you.” 

The professor watches, completely hypnotized, as the business woman walks towards her with more grace than should be possible. The clack of her black stilettos echoes in the now empty lecture hall, and Zoë feels her stomach turn itself into knots. Sure, she has heard plenty of stories of the infamous local, but has never had the pleasure of actually meeting her. Apparently, today is her day. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Annabeth says, holding a hand out. “I’ve heard so much.” 

Zoë takes her hand, which is unreasonably soft for a woman who has supposedly killed a bunch of people. “All good, I hope.” 

“Exceptionally,” Annabeth says with a smile that puts Zoë at ease. “I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this.” 

“That’s alright,” Zoë says, looking around the empty room. “I have a while before my office hours start.” 

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time so I’ll get straight to the point. The dean of your department let me know that you submitted a grant application last month that was denied.” 

“Oh,” Zoë says, casting her eyes down in embarrassment for a moment. When she looks back up, Annabeth is watching her intently. “Yes, it seems my application did not meet the full requirements for the award. Can I ask why the dean would tell you that?” 

Annabeth walks slowly past Zoë, her hands behind her back, and turns on her heel to again face the professor. “You may know already that I give a yearly donation to the school, a rather generous one if I do say so myself, and well, the dean and Ix have known each other for years, so she thought I might be interested in funding your research. And she was right.” 

Zoë’s mouth goes dry and all she can do is look at Annabeth in shock. 

“I believe in bringing the women lost in the shadows of history towards the light, and I think you are the woman up to the task. Your work in the Classics is renowned, and it would be an honor to say that I supported you.” 

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” 

Annabeth shrugs. “A yes would suffice, I think.” 

“I mean, yes! Yes, of course, I would… That would just be amazing, Ms. Chase.” 

“Please, call me Annabeth.” 

Zoë grips the strap of her bag and takes in a sharp breath. “Annabeth. Thank you so much.” 

“Shall we get some coffee and you can tell me a bit more about what your plans are?” Annabeth offers. 

“Absolutely,” Zoë says as she leads the way with a new pep in her step. She takes out her phone and begins typing. “My wife is not going to believe this.” 

“It will certainly be quite the surprise,” Annabeth agrees. 

* * *

The gym is quiet in the mornings, just the way Clarisse likes it. She works over a punching bag, visualizing her father’s stupid face as she lands a perfect right hook. The sound of clapping startles her, and she spins around into a fighting stance, prepared to take down any potential enemy. Instead, she spots an old client, and lowers her fists. 

“You look like shit,” Clarisse shouts across the gym. She steadies the punching bag and begins to take off her boxing gloves. 

Annabeth laughs, walking further into the dimly lit gym. “It’s good to see you, too, Clarisse.” 

“You’re back,” Clarisse says in a flat tone, giving Annabeth a once over. 

“I am,” Annabeth says, taking a look around the gym. “I love all the changes. Seems you’ve made the most of your paychecks.” 

Clarisse shrugs. “What can I say? Beauty and brains. I’m the full package.” 

“That you are,” Annabeth agrees. 

Clarisse again looks Annabeth up and down, noting something different in the woman she has now known for over a decade. 

“Something’s made you soft, Chase,” Clarisse comments, though there is no edge in her tone. 

“Just a bit,” Annabeth admits with a shy smile. “I can still kick your ass in the ring, though.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Clarisse asks with an amused smile. “You think your skinny little ass can take  _ me  _ out?” 

“First of all, I have a great ass,” Annabeth corrects. “Second of all, I know for a fact I can.” 

“You’re a pain in the ass.” 

“One who can pay.” 

Clarisse watches her for a moment, grunts, and nods at Annabeth before beginning to walk past her. “Tomorrow. Five-thirty. We’ll find out just how soft you’ve gotten.” 

“Our usual price tag?” Annabeth asks, turning to watch Clarisse walk away. 

“Double it,” Clarisse says over her shoulder. “That’s what you get for pissing me off.” 

Annabeth laughs. “I missed you more than I thought.” 

Clarisse lifts her hand over her head, flipping Annabeth the finger as she disappears into her office. “Missed you too,” she admits under her breath. 

* * *

Thalia sits in her favorite corner booth at  _ Gaea _ , a lesbian biker bar that sits on the northern edge of Olympic Harbor. Despite it being the middle of the day, the bar is dark and the smell of cigarette smoke lingers in the air. The door opens, letting in a stream of light that blinds Thalia for a moment, and then a shadow falls over her. She squints in the direction of the figure until a surprising face comes into focus. 

“Well, well, well,” Thalia says slowly. “If it isn’t the Harbor’s very own mafiosa.” 

Annabeth laughs as she slides into the booth opposite Thalia. “Says the nomadic hired hand.” 

Thalia smirks and takes a sip of her beer. “You know how I feel about being cooped up.” 

“Indeed I do,” Annabeth says with a slow nod. 

“Here you go, Annabeth,” the bartender says, delivering a whiskey neat. “Your favorite.” 

Annabeth smiles up at her sweetly. “Thanks, Gwen.” 

Gwen blushes and scurries away, leaving Thalia to shake her head at Annabeth. 

“Too bad you went and got yourself a husband,” she laments. “Every woman in this bar has been waiting years for a chance with you.” 

Annabeth takes a slow sip of her drink, humming in satisfaction as the amber liquid hits her tongue. “I really should have come here more during my slut phase. My loss, I’m sure.” 

“Definitely,” Thalia agrees. She adjusts in her seat, frowning as the booth squeaks beneath her. “So what’s this visit about? You got some work for me?” 

“I will soon,” Annabeth answers. “I know Charles had asked you to hang around for a while, and I’m just here to make sure your services are still available.” 

Thalia leans forward to lean on the table, intrigued. “For you? Always. I mean, that is what we agreed to all those years ago, isn’t it?” 

“Indeed it is,” Annabeth says as she turns her glass on the tabletop. “How is your brother, anyway?” 

Thalia shrugs. “Self-righteous, pretentious, nerdy. The usual.” 

“Good. I would hate to think my leaving made him soft,” she says over the rim of her glass. 

“Nah,” Thalia says. She furrows her brow. “He has read Moby Dick like five times though, which was a weird development.” 

Annabeth hides a smile behind her drink. “You don’t say.” 

* * *

Annabeth stands outside of the Olympic Harbor Library, staring up at its marble pillars in admiration. The sun is warm on her back as she strolls towards the entrance with Charles at her side. 

“Things haven’t gotten so bad that I’m not safe in my own library now, have they?”

Charles continues scanning every passerby, his face calm and neutral. “Of course not. But I’ll never take any chances when it comes to you.” 

Annabeth walks closer to her brother, hugging his arm and perching her chin on his shoulder affectionately. “You missed me so bad,” she teases. 

Charles shakes his head, turning away from her to hide a smile. “You have no proof, counselor. Pure conjecture.” 

“Withdrawn,” she replies, letting him go as he pulls ahead to open the door for her. She boops his nose as she walks by him. “You totally did, though.” 

Charles rolls his eyes as he follows her inside. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” 

Annabeth navigates the library with ease, heading towards the cafe that sits tucked into the back corner of the top floor. There, in a brown leather armchair near a window that overlooks the city, sits an old man sipping on what Annabeth would guess is a cup of Greek mountain tea and reading a copy of  _ The Odyssey _ . 

“Does that one have a happy ending?” she asks as she sits in the chair across from the old man. 

He peeks over the top of his book, and upon seeing her, drops it to the wayside and sets his tea down. A smile spreads from ear to ear. “My dear, it’s a Greek story. Of course not.” 

They share a laugh, and Annabeth stands for a moment to place a kiss to the man’s cheek, and give him a warm hug. 

“Looking good, old man,” she says as she sits back in her chair. 

He chuckles, running a hand through his short salt and pepper beard. “What have I always told you? Be good to books, and they will be good to you.” 

“It’s good to see you, Chiron,” she says with a fond smile. 

“And you, my sweet,” he says, his head tilted slightly to the side. “How is my dear Ruthie? And that wonderful husband of yours?” 

“They’re good,” she says, hoping the blush she feels isn’t as easily seen. “They miss you. You’ll have to come over for dinner soon.” 

“Nothing would make me happier.” 

“Good. How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve told you that you must stop fussing over me,” he complains, picking up his tea. “I’m fine.” 

“You had a heart attack,” she says, unamused. “I would hardly say that qualifies as fine.” 

“Pop quiz: what causes a heart attack?” he asks with a pointed look. 

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “A heart attack occurs when one or more of your coronary arteries becomes blocked.” 

“That’s my girl,” he says with pride, taking a sip of his drink. “I had you reciting that by age six, do you remember?” 

“It was a great party trick,” she says. “But can we please get back to you?” 

Chiron waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t like being fussed over.” 

“Well that’s too damn bad,” she says with an unsympathetic shrug. “Mom left very specific instructions for your care, and you’re also my last remaining parental figure, so sorry, but you’re stuck with me.” 

Chiron tries and fails to bite back a smile. “You and your mother were always too good to me.” 

“She and I were cut from the same philanthropic cloth, haven’t you heard?” 

Chiron chuckles, his belly now rounded with age bouncing jovially. “I have heard whispers of that, yes.” 

“Dinner on Friday at the house. Connor will pick you up at six. Understood?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers with a playful salute. “Though, do me a favor and send Travis. That Connor always insists on playing his inane electronic nonsense.” 

“Deal,” Annabeth says with a laugh. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

“The pleasure was all mine,” he says with a paternal wink. He picks his book back up, thumbing through it to find his page. “Study up on your Odyssey trivia, Ms. Annabeth. There  _ will _ be a quiz at dinner.” 

“I would expect nothing less.” 

* * *

Jason shuffles through a pile of papers that has been taking up space on the corner of his desk for weeks. Under normal circumstances, he would thoughtfully and meticulously organize them by importance, tackling each task in the appropriate order. But these are not normal circumstances. 

And then, there’s a knock on his door. 

“I’m in hell, aren’t I?” he deadpans. 

Annabeth strolls in, a smug smile brightening up her face. “It’s good to see you too, detective. Or is it captain?” 

Jason sighs, throwing himself back into his chair and crossing his arms. “Interim Captain,” he corrects. 

“That’s kind of a mouthful,” she says with a frown. 

“Tell me about it.” 

“I heard about what happened,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at the mostly empty bullpen. “A real shame for the city.” 

“Don’t patronize me by pretending you didn’t have something to do with it.” 

“How would little old me have anything to do with the arrest of over a dozen corrupt Olympic Harbor officers when I was all the way in Greece?” 

Jason frowns. “The dumb blonde thing has never suited you.” 

“Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“What I  _ can _ blame you for is getting the captain wrapped up in all this. He’s a good man.” 

Annabeth scoffs. “He’s a weak man.” 

“Excuse me?” he asks with a skeptic scowl. 

“Your former captain was not as principled a man as you thought. Nor was he careful about the company he kept.”

“It sounds like you’re saying he kept company you didn’t approve of,” Jason says. “But why would he do that when he was scared of you?”

“What’s that one saying?” Annabeth says, tapping her chin with her index finger. “Oh, yes. Out of sight, out of mind.” 

Jason thinks for a moment, watching Annabeth all the while. “So he found someone new to be afraid of.” 

Annabeth smiles sweetly. “You always were the cream of the crop. Tell me, what was it the captain was arrested for?”

Jason clenches his jaw. “Bribery in the third degree.” 

Annabeth leans forward, folding her hands on the desk. “Sounds like some lazy accounting to me. I am many things, but lazy is not one of them.” 

Jason crosses his arms tighter. “That’s fair, I guess.” 

“Did the captain’s new mercedes last year really not raise any flags for you?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “That would be a piece of cake for any Internal Affairs officer worth their salt.” 

Jason sighs, defeated, and leans forward onto his desk, looking Annabeth in the eye. “What do you want from me, Annabeth?” 

“I wanted to see if we can finally be friends.” 

“I won’t be in your pocket, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I’ve never wanted you in my pocket, Jason. I thought that would be clear to you by now.” 

Jason runs his hands over his face and through his hair. “Why do you insist on keeping me in play when you know that I’m not the guy who is gonna look the other way to your… various dealings?” 

“You’re my rook,” she answers, looking at him as if it is obvious. Gray eyes meet blue, locked on each other. “There’s merit in knowing exactly what a piece will do. Front to back, side to side, it’s all there in front of you. You just have to pay attention.” 

Jason looks over Annabeth’s shoulder at his tragically vacant precinct, his heart sinking in his chest. “Do you know why I try to be a good man, Annabeth?” 

“Because your father wasn’t,” Annabeth answers plainly. 

Jason nods, slow and barely noticeable. “I don’t like when bad people get away with hurting good people.” 

“All these years, and that’s still how you categorize me?” Annabeth asks, a bit offended. 

Jason runs his bottom lip through his teeth. “No.” 

He feels Annabeth watching him carefully. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” he continues. “In fact, I think in your own fucked up way, you’re actually a really good person.” 

“You seem upset by that,” she notes. 

“I’m confused.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” she says with a smirk. “I gave you the answer six years ago.” 

He frowns, furrowing his brow, and opens his top desk drawer to produce a leatherbound copy of Moby Dick. Jason runs his hand over the cover, carefully tracing the intricate engravings before setting the copy down on the desk between them. 

“You mean this?” he asks. 

Annabeth picks up the book, and leafs through the pages. “ Truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast,” she recites. 

“Nothing exists in itself,” Jason adds, his eyes far away as a truth he can't yet say out loud settles over him. 

There is another knock at the door and Charles walks in, his broad shoulders taking up the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but we don’t want to be late for your next meeting.” 

“Thank you, Charles,” Annabeth says, setting the book back down. “I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Captain,” Charles says with a curt nod in Jason’s direction. 

“Lieutenant,” Jason says, returning the gesture. 

"I'm more of a general," Charles calls as he turns the corner.

Annabeth stands, smoothing out the front of her skirt. “As always, thank you for your time, Captain.” 

Jason stands and slides his hands in his pockets. “You off to harass someone else?” 

Annabeth smiles. “A business meeting with a very important associate, actually. I think you’d like her.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, trying not to be so amused by the back and forth. “I suppose... I will be seeing you around.” 

“I suppose you will,” she says with a satisfied smile. “Take care of yourself out there, Captain Grace. It’s a deceptively dangerous city.” 

“You do the same.” 

In a flash, she’s gone, and Jason feels rejuvenated in a way he hasn’t since the day she left six years ago. As the sounds of her receding footsteps fade away, Jason sits back down in his chair and picks up his book. He stares at the cover, repeating the quote in his mind.  _ Nothing exists in itself _ . 

He spins his chair around and stares out the window, shaking his head at himself. “God damnit, she makes this job fun.” 

* * *

Charles opens the door for Annabeth, offering her a helping hand as she exits the back of the SUV. He closes the door behind her and they stand side by side, looking up at the impressive building that is the lower school of Our Lady of Gnosis. 

It is a proud brick building with a large stained glass window on either side of the front doors. A single bell tower that casts a long shadow over the front drive which is lined with an array of black cars of different high-end makes, each chaperoned by a parent, a driver, or both. 

“This place is so pretentious,” Charles mumbles as he glances at the other cars. 

Annabeth laughs. “Says the man who personally interviewed the headmistress and staff before enrolling his son here.” 

Charles frowns at her and loosens his tie. “It’s not my fault they’re the best school in the city. Besides, you were literally on speaker phone for those meetings.” 

“For support,” she insists, patting Charles’s shoulder. 

Annabeth checks her watch as it marks 2:35, and the final bell of the school day rings out. It doesn't take long for a flurry of kids to push the front doors open, and Annabeth stands a bit taller as she eagerly scans the crowd. 

“Mommy!” a little voice shouts. 

Annabeth’s smile is pavlovian as a little blonde girl with her hair tied into two pigtails launches herself forward, wrapping her little arms around her mother’s legs. 

“Hey, Honeybee,” Annabeth coos. 

Ruthie looks up at her mom, her smile putting the sun to shame. “Hi mommy.” 

Annabeth smooths the hair on Ruthie’s head, bending down to place a kiss on her hairline. “How was your day, my love?” 

Ruthie wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “So busy. How was your day?” 

Annabeth chuckles and strokes Ruthie’s cheek. “Same.” 

Ruthie turns her attention to her Uncle Charles. “Babb is coming, he just had to find his jacket.” 

“Oof,” Charles says, his eyes growing wide for a moment. “His mom will not be happy if he loses it.” 

“I know right,” Ruthie says with an eye roll. 

Annabeth has to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. 

On cue, a teacher appears in the doorway holding the hand of a smiley little boy who victoriously holds up his jacket for Ruthie to see. 

“Found it!” he shouts. 

“Good job, Babb!” Ruthie shouts back, clapping for her best friend.

The teacher hands him off to his dad with a story involving a dare between five year olds and a bean bag chair, and leaves the foursome to their business. 

Charles picks his son up and places a quick kiss to his cheek. “Have a good day, Benny?” 

Ben nods and kisses Charles on the cheek in return. “I drew a machine,” he says proudly. 

“Can we see it later?” Annabeth asks with genuine interest. 

“Yeah!” he beams, nodding. 

Annabeth and Charles put their respective children in the back seat, and Annabeth moves to join Charles up front. 

“I’m exhausted,” Ruthie declares, dramatically resting head back against the seat. “Mommy, I think if I don’t have ice cream, I might die.” 

“You sound like your dad,” Annabeth says over her shoulder, unimpressed. 

“Daddy, please?” Ben says in his best baby voice. 

Charles looks at his son in the rearview mirror, his jaw tensing for a second before he relents. “One scoop,” he declares. 

“God, you’re a softy,” Annabeth teases. 

“You heard his voice,” Charles says defensively. “Could you say no to him?” 

“Of course not,” she answers. “But I’m his cool, rich aunt, I’m not supposed to say no.” 

Charles rolls his eyes and puts the car into drive. “Did you ever think this would be us?” he asks. 

Annabeth smiles, glancing back at Ruthie and Ben who are caught up in a conversation of their own as per usual. She turns back to the front, watching in contentment as Olympic Harbor unfolds before them. “Never. I think that’s why it’s so good to be back.” 

* * *

Annabeth stands at the kitchen counter making herself a cup of tea when Percy walks in. He quickly encroaches on her space, his hands resting on the counter just outside of her own. 

“Hi,” he says into her hair, placing a kiss to the side of her head. 

“Hi,” she replies, putting her weight on her right foot as she adjusts to get a better look at him. 

“I feel like we barely got to talk at dinner,” he says with a pout. 

“Ruthie did say she had a busy day, and the girl loves to talk.” 

Percy winces. “Guess my side of the gene pool was bound to show up in one way or another.” 

Annabeth smiles as she pours some tea into her mug and begins to stir. “She takes after you in all the best ways.” 

Using his right hand, Percy gently brushes Annabeth’s hair away from her neck and places a soft kiss to it, humming happily against her. “Back at you, Chase.” 

Annabeth picks up her mug, cradling it in her hands, and Percy shuffles to the side so they stand against the counter facing one another. 

“So how was your comeback tour?” Percy asks. 

Annabeth hides her smile behind her mug. “Don’t call it a comeback.” 

Percy’s eyes brighten up with hope. “You’re not...” 

“I’ve been here for years,” she says plainly, setting her mug down. 

Percy gasps. “Oh my god, is this happening right now?” 

“I’m rockin’ my peers, puttin’ suckers in fear.” 

Percy watches her with his jaw on the floor. “Oh fuck, it’s happening,” he whispers. 

“Makin’ the tears rain down like a monsoon,” she continues through a face splitting smile. “Listen to the bass go boom.” 

“Explosions!” Percy says excitedly, throwing his arms in the air.

Annabeth laughs, throwing her head back enough for Percy to have a chance to lunge forward and place a flurry of kisses to her neck. 

“You’re my dream girl,” he mumbles against her skin, eliciting another laugh. 

“Your nineties playlist really took a toll,” she says, throwing an arm around his neck to keep him close. “And despite the rumors, I am only human.” 

Percy kisses her lips, chaste at first but then deepening the connection as his arm wraps around her waist. “The only human who makes my heart beat like this,” he says against her lips. 

She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Back at you, Jackson.” 

Percy glances at Annabeth’s mug on the counter, then back at her. “You don’t mind if that gets cold, do you?” 

Annabeth shakes her head. “Not as long as you promise to make me a new cup later.” 

Percy quickly hooks his hands around the back of Annabeth’s thighs, lifting her up and allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. “This is a full service operation,” he assures her. 

Her lips crash against his, passionate and desperate. “Don’t I know it.” 


End file.
